A Spot of Light Relief
by Hugger-Of-Trees
Summary: Polly & Mal are seconded to another regiment for a highly secret job. If they only follow the plan, everything should be easy. However, which plan should they be following? Established Polly/Mal, affection only, nothing explicit. Pre Dulce et Decorum est.
1. Light

Written for a series of weekly sub prompts under the umbrella of the main challenge "Plan" over at Cheesemongers. The sub prompts consisted of: Brightness (taken to mean Light), I Yam What I Yam, Creativity, and Crowned. Occurs before Dulce et Decorum Est.

**Summary:** Polly and Mal are seconded to another regiment for a highly secret job. If they only follow the plan, everything should be easy. However, which plan should they be following? (Polly/Mal, but affection only, nothing explicit)

**Disclaimer: **Terry Pratchett owns the characters and the world they live on. I am grateful for all the brilliant books and make no claims of ownership in any way.

**A Spot of Light Relief**

The letter had come from the highest authority. In typical soldier fashion they'd grumbled and done their best to wiggle out of it. But here they were, a week later, packing up and moving out. On her way back from a trip to get the last small things they needed Polly stopped off to settle the bill for their digs. They were, as usual, running late and she took the stairs two at a time only to be stopped short in the doorway by the enormity of what confronted her.

"Mal!" This was too bad. "It's a secondment to the Light Infantry, not the Heavy Dragoons!"

Mal may be the epitome of a lean mean fighting machine, Polly thought, but you wouldn't think it to look at her now. Helplessly she indicated the large pack the vampire was elegantly leaning against. "Light Infantry Sergeant! That means we travel _light_!

To her further annoyance Mal refused to listen and explained, delicately - as though to a child, that she'd tried travelling light and it really didn't suit the vampire temperament. Plus, she added with her head on one side, there was her image to keep up.

Polly in turn reminded her that they were now unfortunately tasked with keeping up with the Light Infantry, who lived up to their motto of "Swift and Bold" by running anywhere and everywhere. How exactly did the enormous pack fit into that picture?

"No problem!" Mal lifted the pack easily in one hand "Vampire strength, remember?" She continued to raise and lower the pack as she talked. "Can lift heavy loads with the greatest of ease, _et cetera_, _et cetera_, _et cetera,_" and for emphasis she tossed the pack from hand to hand.

Polly sighed. Vampires!

"Also not affected by gravity" Mal added as an afterthought. "Surely you remember Poll, the open window, the starry skies,"

"Yes! OK! I remember" Polly interrupted, infuriated with the easy blush was rising to her cheeks. She turned away; shoulders hunched with tension and packed the last items into her small haversack.

Mal stopped teasing. Humans, she reminded herself, did need foolish reassurances from time to time. She stepped across the gap between them, took Polly's arm and turned her gently back. "It'll be ok Lieutenant, I promise" she assured before dropping a kiss into the blond hair.

The form in her arms remained stiff and unresponsive. "If we just stick to the plan we'll be fine. Easy job. In and out in no time. No problem." She was blathering she knew, but it seemed to be working. Polly relaxed and her arms slid around the slim waist but they were interrupted by a shout from below. With a sigh for the inconvenient habits of the army, Mal struggled into her massive pack while Polly slung her smaller bundle over her shoulder and took one last look around the room to check they had left nothing behind.

As they disappeared into the stairwell voices drifted back up into the now bare room.

"What plan?"

"The new uncomplicated and effective plan that you will come up with for us, Sir. With the help of your dashing and incomparable Sergeant."

"Ah." Polly sighed. "That plan."

They were fighting to keep up with the rear of the column, every breath a struggle to filter air from the dust sent up by the feet of the men in front of them. Mal enquired delicately if it would be excusable to kill the sergeant whose chirpy cadence kept them moving at such a crippling pace. She had to wait through four bars of his singing for Polly to catch enough breath to answer.

"No." Another 4 bars. "We follow the plan."

"What plan?!" This time the wait seemed longer. A week ago, Polly thought, she had considered she was fit. This was ridiculous!

"You know." Two agonising breaths. "The Plan."

"I'm not sure 'The Amazing Maladicious and His Vanishing Slave Girl' is really going to go down well in front of this crowd Sir!

Mal gently swayed around the elbow Polly sent in her direction with a hurt expression that indicated her feeling of unfairness at the world in general. Vampires did not jog, it wasn't seemly, and now her superior officer was instigating a vicious attack on her person.

"Not that plan! Polly gasped the words out with the last of her breath. "The other plan!"

Blasted insufferable vampires and their ignorance of gravity!

Mal looked pained. "I don't remember the plan involving this much running!"

But then there was no breath for further conversation as the shout came down the column for an increase in pace. The sergeant, Mal decided, would come to an evil and complicated end possibly involving ants. The call filtered to them through the dust and the shout back echoed along the road.

Light Infantry! What Are We?

SWIFT AND BOLD !!

They did not join in the refrain


	2. I Yam What I Yam

Written for a series of weekly sub prompts under the umbrella of the main challenge "Plan" over at Cheesemongers. The sub prompts consisted of: Brightness (taken to mean Light), I Yam What I Yam, Creativity, and Crowned.

**Summary: **Polly and Mal are seconded to a different regiment for a highly secret job. If they only follow the plan, everything should be easy. In today's thrilling instalment our heroines develop their strategy. (before "Dulce et Decorum est")

**Disclaimer: **Terry Pratchett owns the characters and the world they live on. I am grateful for all the brilliant books and make no claims of ownership in any way.

**A Spot of light relief II (I Yam What I Yam) or ****Spot That Light Relief!**

Mal would never tell a soul that Polly almost gave up that first night. The girl had used all her energy, all her stamina, and eventually was hanging on by her fingertips, only her pride keeping her going. But all things come to an end and as the sun dipped toward the horizon, the beautiful sound of a halt being called filtered through the dust. Polly staggered and fell to her knees whereupon Mal, who had been encouraging her for the last miles with some pointed remarks about certain sergeants, dropped her pack, reaching for the water bottle. She held the exhausted form in gentle arms as Polly drank deeply, tension easing from tired muscles. An explanation continued in delicious detail as to how Mal would fry that damn sergeant in boiling oil, with a hint of seasoning and perhaps some chipped potatoes.

They were interrupted by a private with an invitation to meet the 1st lieutenant. Gathering all her resources, Polly struggled to her feet and tried to walk like her legs weren't made of jelly. They reported at straight backed attention and were suprised to see a grin break out on his face as he looked up from the map he was perusing.

"At ease lads. Sit yourselves down and rest your legs. They must be almost falling off." He leaned back against the rock behind him and waved to someone behind them. The blasted sergeant of perpetual motion loomed up behind them with a bottle and a proud smile. Mal considered ripping his throat out there and then, but there was a time and a place for such things and besides, the bottle smelt of spirits. She took the bottle with a nod, sergeant to sergeant and sniffed at it delicately.

"Smells like vodka." Turning to Polly she found her already collapsed at her feet. Folding her slim legs gracefully she sank to the ground and handed over the spirit. Polly took a good nip and managed to almost stifle the cough that followed.

To Mal's disappointment, the evil sergeant wasn't leaving. He settled himself comfortably in the group as the 1st lieutenant leant forward and held out his hand in introduction.

"Smith at your service." They shook hands, Polly first. Mal struggled to swallow the question that jumped to her lips but he answered it anyway. "Yes, my real name, and this is Sergeant Jones." He indicated the loathsome being currently relaxing at his side. "He likes to run."

"Really. I would never have guessed." Polly had obviously been taking lessons in dry sarcasm Mal noted.

Oblivious to all this, the abominable sergeant retained his satisfied smile. Mal considered the benefits of large millstones and fast flowing rivers.

"You did really well for new 'uns." He jerked his head at his superior and added "the Lieutenant didn't think you'd be able to keep up."

"What?" Polly sat up abruptly. "You did that on purpose? You were testing us?"

"You think we run like that all the time?" Lieutenant Smith laughed and reached for the bottle. "We always run in the new ones, see what they're made of." He gave them a calculating look and added "you'll do."

"We thought you were just Politicals, put in to make trouble." The sergeant took over the tale, anxious now to explain. "We heard stuff, about the war and that. But you seem ok."

"We're not political" Polly assured them. "Not anymore anyway" Mal added, "6 months posted to the back end of nowhere cured us of that. Ah, such fun."

"So," Smith enquired delicately so as not to fracture the new peace, "is there a plan for what we're attempting to do here?"

"I've got half a plan." That came out more defensively that Polly had intended.

"Erm, Sir?" Mal put her hand on Polly's shoulder, "I don't think running at them and screaming is going to work this time. It's a good plan I admit, and it's served us well. But perhaps a little more finesse is needed this time."

An exasperated sigh escaped from her lieutenant. "If you remember, Sergeant, I did have some other ideas."

Mal remained sceptical. "Last time we tried that I was stuck in that scratchy pine tree overnight and it cost me 10 dollars to bail you out."

"Plus it's the wrong time of year for hazelnuts" Smith joined in with a grin.

Mal's jaw dropped.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, "I like him" she proclaimed decisively, turning to Polly. "Can we keep him? Please? He's funny!"

"Mal!"

"Is he always like this?" Sergeant Jones asked in an awed tone.

"Excuse me, Sergeant?" Mal bestowed upon him her most disdainful stare. "I am magnificent. Fantastic. Extraordinary. I am unparalleled!"

"You're tired." Polly pulled down the arm waving enthusiastically about her head.

"We're all tired." Smith broke up the party. "We'll thrash out the details of your plan tomorrow. You'll both stay up front with me." Their faces fell. "Hey, cheer up. We don't always run, remember?"

"I do"

"Yes Jones." He patted the sergeant on the shoulder. "But you're weird so we don't count you."

"Lets just hope he keeps Sergeant Von Speedylegs on a tight rein tomorrow" Mal muttered as she helped Polly to her feet.

"Let it go Sergeant." Vampires were impervious to the kicked puppy look, but Polly had always been a sucker for the droopy face Jones had pulled. "He can't help it, he is what he is. Like you can't help constantly spouting rubbish" she added quietly.

"But you still love me right?" Mal employed her own squashed puppy expression as she murmured the question.

Polly stopped abruptly, swaying with tiredness. Mal let it go, realising in that moment that Polly was completely and utterly exhausted. The daft girl had always been too proud to admit to weakness. Wrapping an arm around her waist she guided her stumbling steps back to their packs.

"Come on Lieutenant; let's put you to bed, hmm? Tomorrow is a fresh day." She rambled on quietly as she removed boots, jacket, breeches and shirt and wrapped the tired girl in her blanket. Polly would sleep better without the chafing of buttons and braces. A hand reached out of the blanket to clasp hers and she bent over to stroke the forehead clear of sweat-dried hair. "Night Pol" she whispered, dropping the customary goodnight kiss. "Sweet dreams."


	3. Creativity

Written for a series of weekly sub prompts under the umbrella of the main challenge "Plan" over at Cheesemongers. The sub prompts consisted of: Brightness (taken to mean Light), I Yam What I Yam, Creativity, and Crowned.

**Summary:** Polly and Mal are seconded to a different regiment for a highly secret job. If they only follow the plan, everything should be easy. In today's thrilling instalment our heroines put their plan into action.

**Disclaimer: **Terry Pratchett owns the characters and the world they live on. I am grateful for all the brilliant books and make no claims of ownership in any way.

**A Spot of light relief III (Creativity) or We Could Really Do With That Light Relief!  
**

A voice swore quietly in the darkness. Polly rolled over in the cramped tunnel and squinted back over her hips. She could see nothing, but sensed a disgruntled vampire somewhere behind her.

"I thought you could see in the dark?" Her whispered attempt at levity was sucked into the nothingness. For one frightening moment she wondered what she would do if there was no answer. But instead there was blessed contact as a hand grabbed her ankle and a familiar voice began to explain the differences between taking advantage of low light conditions as opposed to sheer bloody impenetrable blackness such as they were enjoying today.

One did not express relief and joy at the presence of one's sergeant, Polly thought, it just wasn't done. Brusquely ordering her subordinate to shut up, she pulled her ankle from that comforting hold and crawled further on into the dark. Mal followed behind, careful to ensure the package she was carrying didn't knock into anything.

At last the passage opened up a little, with enough space for the squad to crouch together and go over the plan one last time. The smallest of the lads (Mal had taken to calling them Little and Large, though there wasn't more than an inch between them in height) offered the encouraging news that it had taken them over half an hour to crawl the last bit, and they only had 20 minute fuses. Polly immediately sent them both back. She had every intention of returning the troops Smith had lent her as bearers in one piece.

The sound of their struggles became fainter and the oppressive silence rose up around the two who remained. Alone in the darkness Polly reached out to grasp at a thin hand. Suddenly Mal was shivering beside her, burrowing under her arm. Polly didn't ask why a vampire, who was supposed to sleep in a coffin of all things, appeared to be suffering from claustrophobia. She didn't want to be there either. Truth be told there were a million places she'd rather be, most of them lacking the massive weight of rock above her head.

For a moment they sat like that in the dark.

"Well sergeant" her voice wavered against her will, "this was a bit of a shoddy plan you came up with." There was a long pause before a small shaky laugh drifted up from the region of her collarbone. They waited together, sharing strength in the depths.

It was time.

Polly lit the last of the oil in the lantern, placing it well out of danger down the mouth of the tunnel. With the light they could see clearly what the guide had meant. Moving as far away from the lantern as possible, Mal carefully unwrapped the package and laid out its contents. Polly went through the rest of the baggage making sure nothing had been left behind. At last there was nothing else they could do to avoid it.

"Here goes then." Polly took a deep breath. "Let's just get it done and get out of here."

The row that had broken out when Mal disclosed she was carrying explosives had lasted two days. Lieutenant Smith had finally left them to argue it out amongst themselves. Admittedly the issue wasn't helped by the fact Polly had been sleeping next to it for a week without knowing.

In the end, despite all the other plans she had come up with, Polly had accepted there was no other way. Having come to terms with the availability of things that went bang, the next problem had been to rein in Mal's extravagant schemes of what to do with them. Eventually they'd developed a solution somewhat halfway, still too crazy for Polly, but much less than what Mal had been planning. And here they were.

"If we just follow the plan we'll be fine." Mal's reassurance wasn't quite as heartfelt as Polly would have liked but she murmured some sort of assent.

They worked in silence. Fitting the fuses was tricky and with the lantern lit, the temperature in the small space was rapidly rising. Polly wished her hands would stop trembling.

"I miss Lofty sometimes" it was a quiet admission. "Crazy as a snake most of the time, but creative. She'd know a better way to do this."

Mal fit the last fuse and stood back to admire their work. Commenting that the plan they had was creative enough, she placed a reassuring hand on Polly's shoulder before turning to lay out the wire in the remaining space. Polly brought the lantern and face to face they crouched over the wire.

"Right. One last time. I light it, hand you the lantern and get a wiggle on down the tunnel. You follow me, we make it to the next cave before it all goes up and everyone lives happily ever after. Ok?"

"Sounds like one of your better plans Lieutenant." Mal's face belied her tone, but they had to go through with it.

"You sure don't want to go first?" and in that moment Polly didn't know whether she wanted her to say yes or no.

"I'm sure" Mal took her hand gently. "Undead, remember? Should it all go fantastically awry, at least I can protect you from some of the blast." Her eyes warned against mentioning the possibility of anything wooden travelling in the explosion. With a steady hand she reached out and stroked back the blond hair that was falling into Polly's eyes. Cupping the pointed chin she leant forward, whispered "no regrets" and kissed her softly.

Polly lit the fuse.


	4. Crowned

Written for a series of weekly sub prompts under the umbrella of the main challenge "Plan" over at Cheesemongers. The sub prompts consisted of: Brightness (taken to mean Light), I Yam What I Yam, Creativity, and Crowned.

**Summary: **Polly and Mal are seconded to a different regiment for a highly secret job. If they only follow the plan, everything should be easy. In today's thrilling instalment; has the plan worked?

**Disclaimer: **Terry Pratchett owns the characters and the world they live on. I am grateful for all the brilliant books and make no claims of ownership in any way.

**A Spot of light relief IV (Crowned) or What? No Light Relief?  
**

They emerged from the oppressive darkness into the refreshing soft light of a summer evening. Dispensing with the usual army protocol of sentries and defensive perimeters the small squad crept into the cover of a nearby spinney and collapsed exhausted. It had been a long scramble back to the light.

Polly lay on her back staring up through gently moving leaves at a deep blue sky. The tight fear that had clawed at her stomach the whole time they'd been struggling in the dark eased as tension washed out of her on little ripples of birdsong. In this moment she didn't care whether the operation had succeeded or not. It was enough merely to be out in the sun again. Stretched out beside her, Mal was dealing with her muscle cramps by wriggling her shoulders in the turf. Her shirt, as she complained to her superior, was entirely ruined and she would be indenting for another the minute they returned to civilisation. Breeches as well, she continued, indicating that crawling was hell on the extremities. Polly's scraped knees and elbows stung in sympathy.

The sun dropped toward the horizon, drowsy eyes watching lengthening shadows striding through the trees. Eventually the chill of dusk prompted Polly out of her reverie and she roused the squad. They didn't move far, no-one had the energy for a night march and so they camped that night near where they'd hidden their packs long days before. None of the squad slept through the night undisturbed. The cramped days in the darkness left a shadow on their minds. First one and then another struggled awake, fleeing dreams of confining rock, to fall back, reassured by the pinpoints of stars above.

Polly awoke with a start, reliving again the last few moments in the tunnel with the fuses burning down behind them and a choking desperate rage against the rock that trapped them so callously. Reaching out automatically for Mal she instead found empty space. Apart from the sleeping lads, the glade was empty, but she could scent cigarette smoke on the breeze. Creeping away quietly so as not to disturb the curled ball of Little or the spread-eagled form of Large, she came upon Mal sitting against a large tree at the edge of open ground. No words passed between them, Mal simply moving over to make space for her. They watched the stars together until sleep crept up on them, two small exhausted figures curled up together under a wide open night sky.

By the next midmorning they were all tired of hiking. The rolling terrain, so pretty to look at from a distance, was murder on weary legs. It was Polly who saw it first; Mal being distracted by a long speech she was working on for when they got medals. It sat there, temptation itself, property of a deserted farm tucked away in a fold of the hills. There was a short hurried discussion but in the end it was left to the senior officer to decide.

"Oh soddit" said Polly. So they went ahead anyway.

"Lieutenant Perks!"

The shout startled Polly awake, the stern face of her superior officer looming over her. Sitting up amongst the heaps of debris, she awaited her fate with resignation. Smith had other plans however, and opened the conversation in the manner of one discussing roses over a garden fence.

"You seem to have returned with a cart, Perks. Dragged, seemingly, by some four legged animal I will henceforth charitably refer to as a horse."

Over his shoulder Polly could see Sergeant Jones, happily stroking the maligned four legged animal and murmuring softly into the long ears. Smith followed her gaze and when he turned back she could have sworn his lip quivered, just for a moment. But he was an officer after all, there were standards.

"Do you have an explanation for this turn of events, Lieutenant?" His drawl was perfect, honed no doubt on generations of incompetents before her. There was only one thing to do.

"Yessir." She saluted perfectly, finding hay in her hair and ignoring it with utter confidence.

"And would you perhaps care to enlighten us with said explanation?" The patient expression didn't slip for a moment despite the provocation.

Behind her own poker face, Polly swiftly marshalled her thoughts into some kind of order. "Just thinking of the regimental motto sir. Fulfilling the ancient ideals sir."

"This?" He threw out his hands at the audacity of it, an indication of the vast gulf between the decrepit cart and anything remotely resembling his regiment. "Do tell lieutenant, how exactly does stealing this monstrosity count as fulfilling ancient ideals?"

Polly saluted again. When in doubt, always keep saluting. "Sir, regimental motto sir. Swift and Bold sir"

"Swift..?"

"..And Bold sir"

"And surprisingly comfortable" Mal piped up from her perch. Lieutenant Smith had to turn away for a moment.

They were interrupted, thankfully, by Little. "Sir?" A worried face rose over the cart edge, "is it done? Did we do it?"

Smith changed track, his face sliding into sham disappointment at the reappearance of his soldiers.

"Not you again?" he protested, but Polly was pleased to see him discreetly checking for Large amongst the hay. An officer he may be, but he was no Rupert. Large was woken up and assisted over the side by Smith, who wondered aloud why they hadn't both been left by the wayside.

"After your dire warnings on what would happen if we did?" Polly knew then that they were ok. She echoed Little's enquiry, begging Smith to tell them of his exploits.

A broad grin broke out across his face as he bowed low, accepting their imagined applause. "You will be pleased to hear that despite the most insane excuse for a plan you lads came up with." He bowed again in Mal's direction. "We at the Light Infantry have successfully brought it off!"

There was much jubilation from the troops. Polly broke into relieved smiles, Little and Large cheered like the impressionable youths they were and even Mal nodded in appreciation. Under the noise Lieutenant Smith leant in quietly to offer his approval. It had apparently "gone up like a geyser" and the troops remaining had offered very little resistance. The price, shown in the torn clothes and worn faces of her squad, was silently acknowledged in the squeeze of a satisfied hand on her shoulder.

"Alright lads! Load up!" Smith, having noted the benefits of the transport Polly's squad had found, ordered everyone to climb aboard. They scrambled on, fighting for the best positions. All except one. Jones hovered near the tailboard, brimming with an unasked question. Smith finished mediating between two corporals who both claimed the right to hold the reins before turning to the sergeant, sighing and indicating that he could run on ahead if that would fulfil him completely. Overhearing Mal's muttered comment to Polly he added (for their ears only) a comment along the lines that yes he was weird, but very useful at times so was kept on. Unfortunately they didn't catch the rest of his words, about how some other useful people he could mention might find themselves in a similar situation. Blissfully unaware they settled amongst the hay for a gentle relaxing ride back to headquarters.

"Leave it be!"

Polly batted away the ministrations of her sergeant but Mal insisted, continuing to brush the jacket as best she could. In response to the whine of protest she explained that 'Officers Should Have Standards' and in her present guise Polly was losing marks by the minute.

"You, my dear, are a disgrace to the regiment, the sex and most especially to me!"

Polly complained that it seemed to be only the latter that was causing her distress.

"You should at least look smart for your dressing down." A hand was now flicking through her hair, attempting to remove the dust and remaining straw.

"Oh." Polly raised an eyebrow. "Are we in trouble then?"

Mal expressed the opinion that they were always in trouble with this specific Colonel, whether they deserved it or not. Her hand paused for a moment in its efforts, resting on Polly's cheek. Polly leaned in slightly as Mal, suddenly recollecting herself, tilted the head to one side as though merely attempting to get a better view of the straw she was removing.

Stepping back, Polly broke the awkward pause, enquiring as to their plan of survival this time and suggesting they follow their usual arrangement. Mal at first agreed in all seriousness, but unable to resist the standard set up line, reached into her breeches pocket and stopped short. "I say, dash it all sir! I do believe I forgot to pack the petticoats. They must be with the troops. I'll just run back and..."

"Lieutenant Perks and Sergeant Maladict?"

A perfectly dressed Corporal waved them forward. Mal made a final attempt at Polly's collar and then they were in the room with the courteous Corporal quietly closing the door behind them. They came to perfect attention and waited.

Ten minutes later they passed the Corporal again, arguing vociferously. It appeared that Sergeant Maladict had nudged Lieutenant Perks at an inopportune moment and they were now permanently posted to the Light Infantry under Captain Smith (Lieutenant as was). Polly was seemingly not pleased with this outcome.

"That was never the plan!" Polly was still protesting as they vanished around the corner. Their voices drifted back for a moment to the Corporal, who shook his head and returned to his paperwork. As the two dishevelled soldiers made their way out of the building, Mal continued in her attempt to persuade her superior that this really was the best way.

It was an uphill struggle. Polly didn't succumb to the argument that it was more fun in the Light Infantry. Neither was she open to the possibility that there was less chance of being killed whilst skirmishing around the countryside as compared to taking position on the front line with the rest of the pike men. Eventually Mal pulled her down an empty side corridor, determined to settle this before they got back to the troops.

"Look Pol, what's the big plan?"

"To stay alive?"

"Exactly! And what gets you killed the most?"

"The enemy? Foot rot? Explosions?" Polly indicated her general appearance. It was a forceful argument she felt.

"No!" Mal was almost dancing with frustration. "Ruperts. Every time." She presented her final argument. "So, in the Light Infantry, where are all the Ruperts? Think Polly!"

Mal had a point. Ruperts didn't like to run. They didn't like inconvenient weather. They were, in fact, unsuitable for all light infantry purposes. Polly, having been exposed to the effects of the stupidity of ruperts one time too many, began to see that this could be a wonderful idea.

There was, however, one problem remaining. She expressed her concerns vehemently. In reply Mal explained that the league would probably allow her to bite a certain Sergeant Jones due to extenuating circumstances. She seemed to relish the prospect. Polly shut her eyes for a moment, visualising the beautiful possibility. But it wouldn't do. A vampire that ran everywhere? It would be too much. If Smith could manage him, so could she. Anyway, she explained to the disappointed vampire, they could always throw him off a cliff when it got too much.

It was decided then. Polly turned, looking out of the nearby window to the lads milling about in the square below. Her lads now.

"Light Infantry" she murmured. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"At least the motto fits." Mal stepped up behind her, slim arms sliding about her waist. Polly resisted for a moment, determined that her exasperating companion shouldn't have everything her own way. But she was tired, and Mal was a solid comfort to lean against. They stood for a moment in silence before Polly thought to ask for clarification of the statement.

"Oh Pol. How could you have forgotten?" Mal pressed closer, whispering mischievously, her breath a caress against the back of Polly's neck. "Swift and Bold, dear Polly, swift and bold."

The object of her affection jumped and spun out of reach. During the next five minutes a few things were made perfectly clear. Firstly this wasn't the time or the place for such goings on. Secondly the lieutenant was going down to inspect the troops and see to their billeting and nothing was going to stop her. Thirdly the lieutenant was then going to hunt herself a bed and sleep for a week, baths optional. As to the sergeant, she could do what she liked; her actions were of interest to nobody at this point in time.

Eventually Polly ran out of breath and came to a halt, glaring at her subordinate. Out of options, a rare occurrence in their many adventures, Mal blinked, saluted and meekly followed her lieutenant down the stairs and out into their new life in the Light Infantry. It was going to be a beautiful day.


End file.
